


My Salvation, Dear

by itsavolcano



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:46:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew the bitter taste of disappointment. Of wanting something so badly the possibility itched and tingled at the back of the neck, crept along the jaw and down the spine, to the fingers. Something so close he could touch it if only it existed. 5x02 POST EP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Salvation, Dear

**Author's Note:**

> AN: First fanfic in years, first fanfic for The Mentalist; unbetaed, and therefore all errors are my own.

My Salvation, Dear

_Oh, you better hide whatever's on the line_  
It's just that goodnight is easier than goodbye  
I'm already sold on ending up alone 

_("Salvation Dear"; Greg Laswell)_

Charlotte didn't come back, but Jane wasn't surprised.

He knew the bitter taste of disappointment. Of wanting something so badly the possibility itched and tingled at the back of the neck, crept along the jaw and down the spine, to the fingers. Something so close he could touch it if only it _existed_. Jane sat the teacup down, ignoring the crisp clatter as it met the saucer.

Why had his subconscious sent him a vision of his daughter? And what was his subconscious trying to tell him about Red John? About his family? Lisbon? Jane let out a shaky sigh. He needed clarity. Raising the teacup back to his lips, he heard footsteps. He didn't need to turn around; Lisbon was the only person who would come looking for him.

"You took that from evidence." Her tone was strong but her voice was soft with worry. She reached for the brown bag, rolled the edges down and sat the cup out of his grasp.

"Charlotte's gone." Jane's voice was steadier than he felt. He glanced up in time to catch Lisbon's raised eyebrow. "Yes, I know, she's been gone for years. But _this_ Charlotte, this daughter of my hallucinations, is gone and never to return. Or so it would seem."

"Is that such a bad thing, Jane?" She spoke to him just as she had at his bedside that morning, her words careful. "Didn't you say the hallucinations were your subconscious? Maybe your subconscious has nothing left to say."

"A person's subconscious is infinite—" Something Charlotte had said flickered through his mind again. _We're dead, we don't care-_ "What am I doing here, Lisbon?"

"I was trying to figu—"

"No, not _here_ in the attic. I mean about Red John. I've spent years running in circles and just when I thought I had the upper hand, instead I lost Lorelei."

"You didn't lose Lorelei."

"No, no, that was all the Feds."

"Jane—"

"But she still got away before I could crack her, before I could make her sing."

"We'll find her. Whatever it takes. We will bring Red John down, you're just tired. You've had a rough few days, on top of an already crazy year."

"We're no closer to catching Red John than we were before—" _Before Vegas. Before Lorelei._

"I know it seems bad right now, but we _will_ find her and we _will_ find Red John. He's made mistakes before and he'll do it again. The cost is high, sure, but the reward—bringing that monster down? That reward is great."

"And now you've been marked," Jane murmured as if he hadn't heard her little speech.

"I don't understand."

"Red John knows you matter to me. And people who matter to me—"

"Because you didn't offer him my detached head on a platter? Jane, I hardly think that proves anything."

"It's not _just_ that." He stood, the chair scrapping against the unfinished floor planks.

"Then what?"

"It's not _only_ that, there are other reasons. " He thought of Lorelei's comment during their last meeting.

"We've worked together for the better part of a decade. If Red John was going to make a move, he would have made it by now."

"No, he's bidding his time."

"For what purpose?" Her lips curled up with a mirth she didn't feel.

"He'll wait until I let my guard down, until I get comfortable. And then he'll make his move and it'll be too late. Another grim face on a white wall that I can't bring myself to paint over-"

Lisbon sat up, her spine straighter, her eyes more alert. Jane paused, his words and their implications rushing back to him. He felt his shoulders slump and his stomach churn.

"Whew, man, that stuff still packs a punch, no matter the dose." He feigned a faulty step and clutched a support beam. She slowly blinked once and Jane knew she saw through his act. After all, what had he told Charlotte?-Lisbon was the one who saw him for what he was, she was the only one.

"You should get some rest," she offered. Jane nodded and moved towards the makeshift bed in the corner of the attic. "Nope, not here.—You need a real bed. Or at least the couch downstairs. It's too drafty up here. And there's mice."

"There aren't any mice," Jane grumbled, collapsing on the rough bed.

"How do you know? It's an old building."

"Just because it's government property doesn't mean there are vermin and pests."

"Oh, I don't know, I'm pretty sure I'm looking at the building's biggest pest right now."

"Ha ha, nice one. -C'mere."

"Why?"

"So I can tug your pigtails after that juvenile wisecrack. I can't reach you from here."

"Alright, come on Jane, get up." Lisbon stood and tapped the bottom of his foot. He groaned.

"Too tired. You go home, I'll be fine." Jane shut his eyes and folded his arms over his chest.

"OK, be that way." Lisbon grabbed a blanket from the back of a chair and draped it over Jane.

"Thank you, Mother Teresa."

"It's _Saint_ Teresa— _Patrick_ ," Lisbon teased. "Get it right."

Jane smirked, and opened one eye.

"We will end this, Jane. Red John isn't infallible."

"I'm sure you're right, Lisbon."

"What was that? Did you just say 'you're right, Lisbon'?"

"If you tell the others, I'll deny it."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Lisbon moved to the table and snatched up the bag of belladonna and cup. "I'll just return this to the evidence lock-up. Don't even _think_ of sneaking it out again."

"Told you it doesn't work anymore."

"Doesn't matter. I'm removing the temptation."

"It was a moment of weakness. Charlotte is dead; Angela is dead. Nothing can bring them back, not a cup of belladonna, not even taking down Red John."

"Jane?" Lisbon's brow creased in worry. He sounded so unlike himself, so defeated.

"I'm fine, Lisbon." He forced a small smile. "A good night's sleep and I'm sure my need for vengeance will be back in full swing." She gave a small nod, recognizing his dismissal.

"OK, rest. If you need to talk, you talk to me, alright? No more secret hideouts, no more running off. You talk to me."

"Yes, dear."

Lisbon closed the door behind her and he listened as her footsteps fell farther and farther away. Jane's arrogance damned his family ten years ago but he refused to let Lisbon fall to the same fate. He would protect her against Red John and against Lorelei. But now Jane worried it was that it was too late, Red John had seen his heart's desire and would use it against him.

In the morning, after his first cup of tea, Jane would come up with a plan to protect Lisbon. At any cost.


End file.
